


Should and Shouldn't

by indigorose50



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Freedom March Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pacifist Route (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 08:12:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigorose50/pseuds/indigorose50
Summary: After escaping the site of the Freedom March, Markus needs to recover. In more ways than one.





	Should and Shouldn't

**Author's Note:**

> First DBH fic. Be kind.

His shirt is ruined.

That is Markus’ first thought when they get back to Jericho after the march. Not only does it have a bullet-sized hole in it; Thirium stains the whole right side. He tugs at the shirt, assessing the damage. Nope. It will have to be replaced.

Just like when he had to replace his legs. And his eyes and—

Those memories flash before Markus and he doesn’t hear his friends call after him as he moves further into the ship. He finds the first empty room and ducks inside. Part of him wants to go back and make sure all the new androids are cared for. Check on the injured and talk to the newly awakened. He is their leader, somehow.

Yet he shuts the door behind him and lets himself crumple to his knees. Already he can feel the bullet hole closing up. He’ll need to drink some thirium to recover what he lost. Shaking, he tears off his shirt to watch his skin repair.

He tosses the shirt to a corner and is assaulted with more flashes of the scrap yard. The hands reaching for him, just like the shot androids today.

He had thought Simon coming back to them was a good sign. A sign that peace would serve them well in the march. Simon, Josh, and North were all fine. But at what cost? How many did they lose today? Markus didn’t even know their names; some had only been awake a few minutes. How had he lost control so fast? Why did the humans _always_ have to answer with violence?

He slams a fist against the metal floor. The action tears the skin of his hand but it grows back quickly. Those androids won’t come back. They can’t just slip on a new shirt and live another day.

Something drips to the ground in front of him. Afraid it’s more thirium, he presses a hand to his bullet wound. It’s gone but for a slight dent on the plastic beneath. He feels something on his face. With trembling fingers, he touches the tears on his cheeks, trailing down his chin to the floor.

He shouldn’t be crying. He should be helping.

Those androids shouldn’t be dead. They should be free.

He needs to get a new shirt. Stop sulking in here.

He needs to step down. Stop thinking he’s a leader.

“Markus?”

Markus whips his head around. In the doorway stands Simon. Apart from his leg, he is unharmed. Markus is shaking worse than ever. He covers his mouth with his hand as more tears force their way out.

“Markus…”

Simon should be disgusted by this show of weakness from their leader. He should be yelling at Markus to get his shit together.

Instead, Simon shuts the door behind him and kneels beside Markus. He pulls Markus to his chest, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and holding Markus’ head with his other hand.

“You were brave today,” Simon whispers, rubbing the side of Markus’ face with his thumb. “I’m so proud of you.”

It doesn’t change the fact that so many of their own are dead. It doesn’t change the fact that the humans still hate them. It doesn’t change the fact that Markus needs a new shirt.

But Markus feels lips press against his forehead and lets himself go. He sobs into Simon; for the androids killed today, for the terror of thinking his only friends would die, for John who sacrificed himself for Markus, for the stress of not know the right choices, for being the caretaker of a painter one day and a rebel leader the next.

Then he cries for none of those things. He cries because he has the freedom to. He feels safe in Simon’s arms and comforted by Simon’s words.

After a while, he sucks in breaths to regulate his thirium pump. He lifts his head and pulls away from Simon. Simon doesn’t remove his arm from around Markus’ shoulders but lets him sit up. “I’m sorry,” Markus says.

Simon lets out an amused huff. “You’re allowed to show emotion. That’s what we’re fighting for, right?”

“But I shouldn’t have—”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” Simon stands up and offers a hand to Markus. “Let’s get you a shirt. You’re a little distracting.”

Markus looks up at Simon, lets himself chuckle, and takes the hand. Simon pulls him up and Markus steps forward to press their lips together. Through their still clasped hands, Markus forces through as much of his gratitude as he can. He also adds his relief of Simon coming back for good measure.

They part slowly. Simon stares at him for a second before smiling. He tightens his hold on Markus and leads him out the door.

Markus doesn’t want to face the people he let down. He doesn’t want to see North’s frustration or Josh’s mournful silence. He doesn’t want to see the survivors’ dispirited eyes.

But he does need a new shirt and a pack of thirium. He needs to been seen and boost morale. He needs to talk with North and Josh about their options.

Most of all, Markus needs to never let go of Simon’s hand.


End file.
